Ricardas Gavelis - Vilnius Poker

Her deep, dewy eyes pull you like a magnet, they scorch more fiercely than the apocalyptic sun. You approach carefully, looking only at her legs. You’ve never seen such long and slender legs. When you and your friends crawled under the stairs at school and stared greedily with your heads upturned, you saw thousands upon thousands of them. But none of them were so long and slender, none of them could be: Madam Giedraitienė is special; she’s a queen, or maybe even a goddess.

“We’ve been left by ourselves, Vytuk. . Giedraitis is in Kaunas; he’s in meetings all the time. Robertas ran out to the Nationalist Youth gathering. . The two of us are all alone, like on a deserted island. . Well, come on, why did you stop?”

An intoxicating scent, the scent of enchantment, emanates from her; you dive into its lush waves. Can a human being smell that way? You should close your eyes and stop looking at her long, slender legs. You’re sinful and disgusting, you’re not fit to even stand next to her, next to a goddess.

“Sit down!”

“I’m wet, I’ll dirty the blanket.”

She laughs unexpectedly, stretches out her hand and touches your knee, then even higher up. It’s so unexpected that you go numb all over, and then shudder like all the electricity in the world is shaking you.

“You little wet thing! You’re even shivering. It isn’t healthy to have wet pants on.”

The irises of her eyes are crooked; she looks at you: not at your face — at your belly, your legs and somewhere else too. Her gaze burns, the places where she glances even hurt. Your thin white shorts are soaked through; you’re completely transparent, you’re more naked than naked. You stand right next to her face, she sees all of you. It’s torture: her glance and her white-toothed smile will kill you.

“Just the two of us. .” she says pensively.

Her voice intoxicates even more so than her scent. You shouldn’t look at her legs; you close your eyes and try to hide in the reddish-brown fog of your eyelids. Once more you see yesterday’s scene: the window of their villa, Giedraitis with your grandfather; in place of her intoxicating voice you hear their angry argument; thank God you can save yourself from her for at least a little while. “We’ve gotten in touch with Estonia and Latvia — it’s the same thing there,” Giedraitis thunders. “Their market is flooded with counterfeit money too. There’s millions of counterfeit litai circulating here.” “The Russians?” Grandfather asks impatiently. “Yes, it’s Moscow’s work. It’s an absolute state secret, Mr. Vargalys. .” “Is it still worth talking about a state?” Grandfather says bitingly. “Europe will spit in our beards and mind their own business.” “You’re a pessimist, Mr. Vargalys. It’s an old trick, they want to provoke our financial ruin, but they won’t succeed. Lithuania’s currency is one of the most stable in the world.” “If the Russian dragon has opened its maw, everything will go to hell!” Grandfather angrily cuts him off. “The English will suffer a bit without Lithuanian hogs, but they won’t tangle with the Russkies. Remember Czechoslovakia. . That Georgian will swallow us whole. He feeds on infants and snacks on states. . Pack your bags, Mr. Giedraitis. Or drink champagne.” “There’s no point in declaring the apocalypse, Mr. Vargalys. The government is taking very serious measures. .” “Shit!” Grandfather throws back, “It’s all shit! When the end of the world is nigh, it isn’t the time to sit in meetings.” “Mr. Vargalys, the Cabinet has decided to ask you. .” “My thanks to the Cabinet!” Grandfather bellows, “Thank you for the warning. At least I’ll buy up some champagne while it’s still to be had. Pretty soon Russian vodka will be all that’s left.” “But Mr. Vargalys. .” “And there won’t be any misters, everyone will be comrades! Where’s the Russian army, I ask you? Who let it in? You let it in yourselves, you blithering idiots!” “Mr. Vargalys, all civilized countries. .” “Those countries of yours have hidden themselves under the bed! The Führer and the Georgian have sliced up Europe like a cake. That’s it! Bring on the champagne! We’ll hold a wake for Lithuania!”

“You’ll shiver to death,” you come to your senses and instantly feel how the muscle in your thigh is trembling, as if it wanted to jump away from her fiery fingers. “What shall we think up?. . Listen, you take off that wet stuff, those shorts. What’s the big deal? We’re like family, after all. Don’t be afraid, no one will see us here. .”

You don’t believe your ears, maybe you’re imagining her voice speaking of impossible things — you quickly open your eyes and again you see her legs, then the contour of her belly under the smooth fabric, then her bosom. Then the neck of a swan, then the eyes; they scorch your masculinity with the thin, wet cloth stretched over it. She really said that. Doesn’t she realize you’re already grown, that there’s nothing that could make you do that?

“Listen, Vytuk,” she coos, and keeps pressing you with her fiery fingers. “You’ll get sick like this. . Don’t be afraid, no one will come by. It’s just the two of us. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of me?”

Doesn’t she understand? You look sadly into her eyes, but you can’t see anything through the tears. How much you’ve dreamt of her! How you’ll dress up in a new French suit, and she’ll say in surprise: how handsome you are, Vytuk! How you’ll save her from drowning, she’ll press her wet hair to your shoulder and say: you’re my hero, Vytuk! Is she teasing? You stand opposite her face more naked than naked and as hot as if scalded by fire.

“Now, what’s to be done with you?” she bites her lip and lowers her voice. “All right, if that’s the way it is, I’ll get undressed too. We’ll be like two Robinson Crusoes on a deserted isle. . After all, we’re like family, aren’t we?”

You don’t have the time to either be surprised or to cry out, and she’s already undressing. Her swimming suit catches on her breasts, it doesn’t want to come down, but finally they squeeze out; thrashing, they roll down her chest as if they were alive. You can go crazy from such beauty, you try not to see them, while she looks at you and says commandingly:

“Well, help then, what are you waiting for?”

You can’t disobey the queen; she kneels, her hands pressed on her naked hips, and transfixes you with her eyes. You kneel next to her and pull the suit all the way down to the ground — roughly, with your face turned away, but your face turns on its own, on their own your eyes look at her belly button, then farther down, at the hair, from which spreads an even more intoxicating scent of enchantment. She laughs hoarsely, gracefully wriggles out of the collapsed material.

“And you? Can I help?”

You jump up like you’ve been scalded and quickly take off your dripping shorts. She keeps smiling, and you stand there like a blockhead.

“Well, see now. . nothing to it. . We’re simply Robinson Crusoes, floating to hell with all of Lithuania, and what is there to do, if not. .”

You feel weak in the knees and ashamed, hopelessly ashamed. Your masculinity hangs frightened and shriveled. Even now it’s bigger and more handsome than her husband’s, even if he is a minister — but you know what it can be like! Suddenly you realize that you have long since wanted to stand in front of her as naked as can be — big and strong, a real, wild Crusoe, so she would see all of you, so she would be charmed and say: I didn’t think you were such a man, Vytuk!